


Valiant Shadows

by ValiantShadows



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender, klance - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Dark Magic, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Pining, shallura - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-27 13:52:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7620871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValiantShadows/pseuds/ValiantShadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith tried to absorb the words with no success. This morning he had been worried about falling victim to petty school drama, and now the fate of the world was in his hands.</p><p> The first day of a new semester, and Keith was already wishing he were dead. Well, more dead than he already was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This was the time of day when Keith wished he were able to sleep.

College.

Or was purgatory more appropriate? The two were synonyms, all pointing towards the same outcome; Keith was trapped in his own personal Hell for seven hours, five days a week, and there was no escaping the repetitive monotony and tedium.

The first day of a new semester, and Keith was already wishing he were dead. Well, more dead than he already was.

The House of Altea wasn’t your standard college, and for that, Keith would be eternally grateful – human drama was _not_ something he had the patience to deal with. To almost _anyone_ else, the House of Altea was an escape; a place you could feel safe and just be the way you were. But to Keith? He saw the truth. The carousel never stopped turning. You couldn’t get off. And no matter how many wondrous classes you could attend, it didn’t change the facts. A college for magic bred a life filled with magic, and in turn, a life full of being an outsider.

Petty Enchanters and trivial Enchantresses littered the freshly polished hallways, indulging in their _oh-so-important_ theatrics and gossip, spilling the he-said, she-said drama. They had a full summers worth of material.

Didn’t you hear? She learned one of the forbidden spells and got banished.

Didn’t you know? He used his hypnosis to get her drunk.

Keith was inhumanly absorbed and completely interested. Not.

Deciding to escape the tiresome hallways, he slid into the library; he could vividly remember his first time entering the sanctuary as if it were yesterday – when in fact, it happened two years ago – and never seemed to grow tired of the sight.

The room itself was two levels, but the ceiling was high enough to comfortably fit three. Towering bookshelves covered every square inch of wall, every book varying in size, shape, and colour. The walls were made of jutting rectangular stones, offset in alignment; every once in a while, you would find a stone that was a darker shade of grey than the rest. Evidently ancient gaslights were hinged to every wall, letting off a soft yellow glow that warmed Keith to the core. The whole ambiance seemed as if it belonged in a movie about the medieval era, much less the library of a college.

This was Keith’s safe place, his place to be alone. His place to forget about his magic and how it completely alienated him from the rest; a freak amongst freaks.

The House of Altea housed and taught thousands of skilled and unskilled witches alike, but Keith was the first and only student to ever be damned with the _gift_ of dark elemental magic. And the  _honour_  of being undead.

He had always been treated like an outsider for his difference; he didn’t see it as a tragedy, just unavoidable. He _was_ a freak, and it was clear to see.

His first time preforming as a Newborn was a sight to behold – Newborns were the names given to the freshman witches, which didn’t make too much sense to Keith, considering they weren’t new to their magic, just new to learning how to control and improve it. But that’s beside the point. Keith was an elemental type, which made him a topic of interest from the beginning; only four other elemental witches attended the college. His area of expertise was fire.

Since he was old enough to toddle, the longhaired boy had been like a moth drawn to the flame; he started out small, lighting a candle here and there or manipulating the flame to create primary shapes, and if he faltered, he would patch up his broken wings just so he could attempt to fly once more.

His first in-class assignment was to preform a magical act for the small class, and of course, Keith chose his Pyrokinesis; the thing was practically his baby (not to mention raising the dead _might not_ make the best first impression). He decided to only do a small performance, lighting the tips of his fingers on fire and burning the edge of a piece of paper, manipulating the flame to burn his name into the white surface. At first, he was proud of himself; he’d never gotten anything written that clearly. That’s when the screams erupted.

Keith had forgotten one _little_ aspect about his magic… the physical effect.

As if he was under some possession spell, the whites of his eyes flooded black, making his already dark eyes seemingly as dark as the underside of a ravens wing. His arms turned a charcoal colour from forearms down, long, serpentine patterns branching off, taking an almost veiny form as they flowed to his biceps. His fingernails grew long and misshapen, as if they were the claws of a ravenous beast.

He had expected the small body of witches to be accepting and understanding. He clearly wasn’t a good judge of character. He forgot that the only users of dark magic were the Sorcerers and Sorceresses of the Galra Empire. He forgot that he was a _good guy_ plagued with a fate he couldn’t escape.

That had been one year ago, to the day.

Not much had changed since then; Keith was still an introvert and a loner. Hell, he was the only student without a roommate (unless you counted Ace, the black kitten who had chosen Keith to be his owner).

Today was just like any other day; dull and lifeless.

Today was.

“Keith!” An obnoxiously loud voice made itself present, earning a plethora of _‘Shh!’_ And _‘Shut up!’_ from the librarian and the other students who’d chosen to use their lunch break to study in the quiet library.

The fire mage looked left and right, wondering if there, by chance, happened to be another Keith in the building.

No one ever talked to Keith. _Ever_.

Completely ignoring the annoyed shushing, the voice boomed again. “Excuse me? I’m looking for Keith the fire enchanter!” Well, that would be an odd coincidence, considering he was the only fire enchanter.

Poking his slender nose up from the book he was reading, Keith stood, awkwardly waving to the person who beckoned his attention.

When Keith caught sight of him, Keith really did wish he were dead. Deader. Sincerely.

The all-too-popular Lance – Keith knew his name for two simple reasons; one being everyone knew his name, and the second being Lance was one of the four other elemental mages – came bounding towards him, a cocky grin plastered on his lips.

If people were rain, Lance was a hurricane. He was boisterous and ostentatious, never once fearing the consequences of speaking his mind or his actions. His heart was so stubborn that it argued with his head every time it wanted to beat.

Keith, on the other hand, was like a melancholy drizzle. He was quiet, and reserved. His skies were always overcast, devoid of colour. And Keith was glad he couldn’t sleep, because waking up would’ve been a cruelty, an affront, and he would’ve avoided it by not sleeping at all anyways. He spent every moment wondering what made him so different from them, wishing he would have never existed to begin with.

Now Keith was posed with one question; Why did Lance want to talk to him? Why did the infamous Lance who, despite being an idiot in Keith’s opinion, was the most popular boy at school, want to talk to Keith, the most unpopular boy at school?

“We need to you form Voltron.”

Keith starred at him, eyes full of confusion and wonder.

“Vol…tron?”

***

Keith didn’t know what to expect as the hurried Cuban boy rushed him towards the House of Altea’s main office, his large hand clasped tightly around Keith’s, dwarfing it in comparison as they turned down the winding hallway.

He was squirming and wreathing, unused to human contact in any measure. The familiar strangers hand was cold, especially in comparison to Keith’s sweaty palms.

“Tell me again why I’m following you?” Keith demanded, his voice incredulous.

All he’d gotten out of the boy was something about a tron, something about this making Keith popular, and some obnoxious comment about Keith’s mullet.

Lance sighed as if Keith had asked him something drastically out of place, as if the boy who had never said two words to him wasn’t dragging him through the hallways at an outrageous pace. “Like I said, mullet. Princess Allura will explain it.”

“Wait- Princess Allura?!” This was a game changer; if some popular hotshot guy needed Keith’s assistance… Well, that was just too bad. But Princess Allura? How could Keith say no to the founder of the House of Altea?

That’s when they arrived at the two ancient oak doors.

An odd sensation filled Keith’s stomach as the taller boy dropped his hand; upon further inspection, Keith noted to himself that the boy was in fact attractive, with caramel skin and freckles that dotted his pointed features like constellations in the nights sky. Keith, if he was honest with himself, could see why all the girls were so fussy about him.

But that wasn’t Keith’s issue right now. Princess Allura would be inside, waiting for the boys to arrive.

Lance pushed open the creaky wooden doors, and stepped inside. Like most areas in the building, Princess Allura’s office was lit by glowing gaslights and had the same rectangular-stone walls. Six chairs were placed in a neat circle, all full except two.

The first person Keith recognized was Professor Takashi Shirogane, or Shiro, as he requested everyone call him. Professor Shiro was Keith’s _Level II Magic Precision_ teacher, and quite frankly, his favorite professor. He was a kind man, who always went out of his way to help Keith along. Most professors pretended, but it wasn’t hard to sense their awkwardness around him; Shiro was different. Keith could tell he was genuine.

A lot of people suspected Professor Shiro and Princess Allura had a hidden love; the two were so alike. Both were so caring, and compassionate. It made Keith uncomfortable. Made him want to look away. Made him want to warn them that he was quite similar to the element he possessed; to be admired from a far, and never to get too close.

Takashi Shirogane was a mystery to most; he held the title of _Only Person to Ever Escape the Galra Empire Alive._ Although it didn’t come without a hefty price; Keith could clearly hear metal grinding against metal as his professor shifted in his chair.

Before his abduction, Shiro had been a prodigy in Sound Magic. After his return, all he possessed was his newfound Umbrakinesis (controlling and shaping shadows), Light Absorption, and Shadow Mimicry (Keith had saw him do this once before; the broad man was right in front of the class one minute, and then seemingly, as if he were some type of street performer, faded into the shadows casted through the classroom window.) The Galra had given Shiro a form of dark magic, as well. He possessed the element known as Darkness.

Sitting parallel to Shiro was the Earth mage known as Pidge; Keith had never spoken to them before, but he knew the name all too well.

Pidge’s popularity had been spiking through the roof as of late, due to their after school classes learning sound magic with Shiro – most people who didn’t think Shiro was head over heels with Allura believed he was in a scandalous rendezvous with Pidge.

Keith didn’t recognize the man to Pidge’s right at first, but when he did, a small smile played around the edges of his lips.

Hunk.

Hunk the air mage was probably Keith’s favorite person to see in the hallways; he had never spoken to him in his life, but something about the way the curvaceous male carried himself and always wore a smile led Keith to believe he was nothing but jovial to be around.

The small smile faded into a subtle frown as Keith realized the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Keith was a freak, even to a guy like Hunk.

None other than Princess Allura occupied the chair to Pidge’s left, and Coran stood at her side, proud and tall.

Realization washed over Keith as he stared at the two empty chairs; one for him, one for Lance. All five elemental mages were here. Just as silently as they’d arrived, the boys took their respective seats, turning to anxiously face Princess Allura.

And then, silence.

All six Witches sat, staring and observing one another with thoughtful looks. Even Keith, who never dared to make eye contact with anyone, was looking around. Then Princess Allura spoke.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called you here.” Everyone nodded, but no one spoke. “I want you all to know that you are very important, and I need you to truly hear what I’m about to say.”

Keith listened in awe to the woman; when she spoke, she held everyone’s attention. Keith couldn’t bring himself to look away. Keith didn’t _want_ to look away.

“See?” Lance whispered ‘quietly’, holding up his hand as if it created some invisible force field between them and Allura. “Told you she has the hots for me.”

“Laaance.” Everyone seemed to groan in unison, excluding Keith, the Princess, and Coran.

Lance just shrugged it off, a cocky grin permanently fixed on his thin lips.

“Anyways,” Allura continued, annoyance still ringing in her tone. “You’ve all been chosen.”

Now it was everyone’s turn to be confused.

“Chosen?”

“Chosen for what?”

“Why?”

Questions rang all around.

“You’ve all been chosen as the five paladins as Voltron. You are the only people who can cast the spell powerful enough to bring down the Galra Empire. The fate of the word is in your hands.”

Keith tried to absorb the words with no success.

This morning he had been worried about falling victim to petty school drama, and now the fate of the world was in his hands. The first day of a new semester, and Keith was already wishing he were dead. Well, more dead than he already was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual Tension: The Chapter.

Keith liked beingalone.

 

He liked playing video games alone, and reading alone. He liked riding the bus alone, and walking home alone.

 

But when he saw a mother with her child, a set of lovers, or a group of friends laughing about everything and anything, he realized that even though he liked being alone, he didn’t fancy being lonely.

 

Affection made him uncomfortable, but that didn’t make him yearn for it any less.

 

Keith had always wanted someone. Anyone. But _this_? This was _not_ what Keith had in mind.

 

The air around him was filled with voices, talking over one another, yelling, questioning. By now, everyone else had jumped up from their seats, trying to grasp the concept of what they’d been told. Everyone except Keith.

 

The fate of the world was in Keith’s hands. The world that hated him so. The world he would’ve done _anything_ to find his place in.

 

His mouth opened, but nothing came out; it was if he was drowning, except he could see everyone around him breathing.

 

When he finally did speak, he surprised himself by saying exactly what was in his mind.

“Why should I?”

 

The room fell silent, as if he’d flicked some invisible switch. The only sound to be heard was the slap of his palms colliding with the arms of the oak chair as he pushed himself into a standing position.

 

“Why should you?” Could an undead heart break? Keith felt like his would at the sound of Shiro’s voice.

 

Everyone looked at him, reinforcing the idea that he was and always would be the odd one out. Princess Allura opened her mouth to speak, but Keith didn’t want to hear what she had to say. He didn’t need to hear her disappointment.

 

“What has this world ever done for me?” His tone was bitter. “Unless you count the chastising, or the rejection. Or maybe you’re thinking of the nights I spent alone as a child, alone and afraid. _That_ would be an _excellent_ reason to protect this damned planet.”

 

“Keith…” Hunk attempted to stop him, but Keith was on a roll now, as if every emotion he’d kept pent up for his nineteen years came bursting through the surface.

 

“Loner Keith. Foster kid Keith. Monster Keith.” His hands were gesturing wildly, an artificial smile forced onto his lips. The smile came to an abrupt stop. “This world can go to Hell in a hand basket for all I care.”

 

 _‘I wont be here much longer, anyway.’_ He added internally.

 

He took one fleeting look at the shock plastered across everyone’s faces before turning on the heels of his Converse sneakers and heading out to anywhere except where he was, flinching as the oak doors creaked shut behind him.

 

He hadn’t noticed until now, but his powers had self-activated and his coal black eyes were rimmed with tears.

 

***

 

The following days passed by in a treacherous manner, and by the third day of the new semester, Keith was completely unnerved.

 

It wasn’t that something had happened; it was that _nothing_ had happened.

 

Now, it wasn’t like Keith had declined an invitation to the Chess Club. Keith had flat-out declined a position – not to mention it was one only _he_ could fill – to save the world. He expected a suspension, or a detention at the very least. All day he had waited for his name to be called over the intercom, but seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, and nothing happened; Keith wondered if that was his punishment. Having to live with himself.

 

As if the kitten sat on the couch parallel could read his mind, he strolled over and curled up in Keith’s lap, his tiny pink tongue darting out to flick across Keith’s hand.

 

 _‘Jokes on them.’_ Keith thought as he gingerly petted Ace. _‘I already hate myself.’_

 

Everything had completely returned to normal; Lance continued to be the popular boy everyone knew and tolerated, ignoring Keith whenever he saw him. Keith could’ve been imagining things, but he thought he caught Lance glaring once. One little slip up, and then it was back to acting as if Keith didn’t exist.

 

And then one day, everything changed.

 

 

When Keith entered the library, everything was completely quiet. He could’ve heard a pen drop.

 

Carrying his _Spell Casting_ and _Power Flow Control_ textbooks, he made his way to his usual corner; the one on the second level by the north facing window, secluded from the rest of the studying tables.

 

As he rounded the top of the winding stairs, he noticed the top of a head peeking out over the tabletop.

 

Someone was sat in his spot.

 

“Lance?” Keith could physically feel the shock registering across his face, the tips of his ears flooding with blood.

 

The tan boy looked up from the book resting on his lap, a small, crooked smile appearing. Keith couldn’t help but gawk at the adorable notion. “What a coincidence seeing you here, Keith.”

 

Keith deadpanned, slender fingers clenching his textbooks tightly, as if resisting the urge to punch him. “No it isn’t. This is my spot.”

 

Lance looked genuinely confused, and Keith had to wonder how many drama classes the boy had attended in high school. “Your spot? I didn’t know the library had assigned spots.” His innocent look shifted, revealing his true intentions.

 

Keith wanted to smack that cocky smirk right off of his lips.

 

Any normal person would’ve walked away, saving the energy and sparing the conflict. It was easy enough to find another spot; the humongous library had plenty of beautiful, empty spaces. But this was Keith’s spot, and Keith wasn’t a normal person. With a frustrated huff, he plopped down next to Lance, never once glancing at the attractive pest. This evidently threw Lance off of his game, but he quickly regained his composure and turned to face Keith. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Sitting in _my_ spot.” Keith spat, still not meeting his eyes. “Would you rather I sat on your lap?”

 

This was obviously sarcasm; if Keith dared to get _that_ close to the rodent, it would exclusively be for murderous purposes. But that didn’t stop Lance from blushing like a mad man – not that Keith noticed. (Did somebody say _oblivious_?)

 

Completely ignoring the fire mage, Lance pulled his bulky headphones from his bag, plugging them into his phone and hitting shuffle.

 

 _At least I’ll get some silence._ Keith was thankful for that.

 

And it was silent. For about three seconds.

 

“Is that…” Keith glanced over, pencil not even getting a chance to make a line in his notebook.

 

“Madonna.” Lance finished for him, his fingers drumming on the edge of his textbook. He clearly wasn’t reading; the books were props. Keith knew he was only here to get under his skin.

 

“You’re a disgusting creature, and that’s coming from me.” Keith rolled his eyes dramatically, attempting to finish what he’d been writing earlier. The pencil had barely made one stroke when said creature turned the music up full blast, so loud Keith wondered if Lance still had eardrums.

 

“Real funny.” Keith shot him a look to kill. “But some of us actually care about our grades, so would you keep it down?”

 

“Can’t hear you!” Lance shouted over the thump of Madonna’s _Revolver_. “My music is too loud.”

 

Slamming his notebook shut, Keith got to his feet. He’d had enough. He flipped Lance the middle finger as he stomped away, leaving him with a charming, “Fuck you, kind sir.” before storming back to his dorm.

 

He didn’t have to look to see the smirk that was undoubtedly stretched across his face. He could still hear Lances howling laughter at the end of the hallway.

 

Lance might’ve won the battle, but this was just the beginning. If he wanted a fight, Keith would bring a war.

 

 

Everyone in the House of Altea (at least those who were fated to share the same floor as him, such as Keith) knew that Lance occupied the men’s showers on the third floor from nine to ten o’clock; he always brought his small Sony speaker and blasted his crappy music before anyone else had even woken up.

 

Today, it was Keith’s turn to have some fun.

 

Fifteen minutes after nine, and Keith found his feet travelling towards the showers.

 

When he entered, Lance was the only one there – as always. No one ever bothered to show until ten.

 

“This is new.” Lance observed as he pulled his pajama top off, neatly tucking it into his shower bag.

 

“What?” Keith mimicked his tone from the library incident, mirroring Lance’s actions and pulling his shirt off. “I’m not allowed to shower on my own floor?”

 

“Whatever, Keith.” Lance was clearly annoyed, and more than a little flustered by the shirtless boy standing in front of him. Not that Keith noticed; he was too busy being occupied with his own view.

 

Lance awkwardly discarded the rest of his clothes, hiding in the confines of the shower for shelter. Keith didn’t dare to look, basing his choice off of what seeing Lance shirtless did to his body.

 

Keith waited until he was sure Lance was well into his shower, a small smirk playing around the corners of his lips as Taylor Swift’s ‘ _Bad Blood’_ starting playing from Lance’s speaker. How ironic.

 

Keith took the beige towel Lance had laid on the counter, reaching into Lance’s bag to pull out any clothing article visible, shoving them into his own bag. He wasn’t stealing, just borrowing for the betterment of the universe.

 

After hurriedly rushing to lock the bag containing Lance’s clothes into his dorm, Keith grabbed the shirt he had discarded when lance undressed, practically sprinting back to the bathroom. He ignored the crazed looks he got from his floor mates; it was college. Was seeing a shirtless boy running through the hallways and laughing like a deranged lunatic that odd?

 

He arrived just in time to see Lance pull back the curtain; by now, they had gathered a few visitors. Or witnesses, as Keith liked to think of them as.

 

The look that crossed his face was priceless as he searched frantically through his bag, psychotically mumbling to himself. Keith wished he had a video camera so he could re-watch this moment every second of every tedious day.

 

“Missing something?” Keith taunted as he slipped his pajama shirt back on; he hadn’t even showered yet. But it was so worth it.

 

Lance’s head snapped up, eyes as wide as two saucers.

 

“You bastard.” The hatred was pure, and glorious.

 

“You reap what you sow, jackass.” This was easily the best moment of Keith’s life; nothing could even hold a candle to it.

 

People were starting to notice the commotion, and soon enough, the shower area was packed. Everyone was chuckling, and pointing at the distraught boy. Every so often, he would use his Hydrokinesis to try and fabricate a pair of makeshift boxers, but it was useless; he was too frustrated to do anything, and even if he could, the water was clear. Keith highly doubted he would attempt ice.

 

Keith cleared his throat, and suddenly, he had everyone’s attention. It slipped his mind that everyone was probably terrified of him; that could be used to his advantage. “Anyone who tries to help him will regret it.” Nine little words, and he could’ve sworn he saw goosebumps.

 

An hour came and went. Sixty whole minutes of Keith watching Lance hide behind the curtain and plead.

 

“Please, Keith. You win. You have your revenge.” He began, clutching the shower curtains – they were an ugly colour. Toothpaste blue. “Just don’t make me walk back to my room. There are girls on this floor.”

 

“Revenge?” Keith repeated, his tongue darting out to wet his upper lip. The action made Lance quiver. “I don’t like to call it revenge.”

 

Lance stared, confused. People had grown bored with their tirade, and they were the only two in the room.

 

Keith didn’t have to ponder his next words; they rolled off the tip of his tongue effortlessly. “Returning the favor sounds nicer.”

 

Apparently that was the final straw, because Lance practically leapt onto the unsuspecting witch, pushing them both to the ground, hands automatically finding themselves wrapped around Keith’s neck. “If you wont give me your clothes, I’ll steal yours!” He screamed, his hands letting go to frantically rip at Keith’s black V-neck.

 

Going into survival mode, Keith began pushing Lance away, smushing Lance’s face against his palm. “ _Jesus, Lance_!” he wailed. “ _You’re naked, you moron!_ ”

 

He didn’t want to admit what having a naked Lance this close was doing to him. Keith wasn’t gay – at least he didn’t think he was. Keith wasn’t really _anything_. He was never given the opportunity to be.

 

“I don’t care!” Lance lied through his teeth, finally succeeding in pulling the t-shirt off of Keith. He sat up on Keith’s lap, pulling it on. Lance was pleased to see the shirt was long enough to make him somewhat presentable. Keith may’ve been shorter, but he was definitely broader. And more muscular, as Lance noted.

 

Meanwhile, Keith was frozen, metaphorically and in the literal sense.

 

Somewhere during their brawl, Lance had managed to use his Cyrokinesis (the ability to form and control ice) to fabricate makeshift binds, pinning Keith to the tiles. But that wasn’t Keith’s biggest problem. Lance was sat atop him, wearing nothing except _Keith’s_ t-shirt. Keith was glad he was wearing his favorite grey harlem pants, and not the compression pants he usually wore.

 

“I should drown you.” Lance uttered.

 

 _‘Yes,’_ Keith internally agreed. _‘You should. Throwing me out a window would suffice as well. Did I mention suffocation?’_

 

That’s when Lance noticed their predicament, finally not distracted by his dilemma.

 

“Oh.” He whispered.

 

“Yeah,” Keith countered sarcastically. “Oh.”

 

As awkward as ever, Lance got up, nervously grabbing and playing with the bottom of the shirt. “Well, this is all your fault.”

 

“ _My_ fault?” Keith sneered, busting from the ice-chains and standing up, brushing his bare chest and pants off. “I wouldn’t have had to get you back if you didn’t steal _my_ spot. And give me my shirt back!”

 

Now, there are one million, twenty-five thousand, one hundred and nine words in the English dictionary. Lance could’ve pieced together almost _any_ of these words to form a comeback, and Keith wouldn’t have been affected in the least. But somehow, Lance found a way to knock Keith off his feet – thankfully it wasn’t physically this time.

 

“Fine, but only if you go on a date with me.”

 

…

 

…

 

Alarms sounded in Keith’s mind, red lights flashing violently. A date? With Lance? A date with Lance? Lance and Keith? Keith and Lance? Keith forgot how to coherently form sentences.

 

If he was honest with himself – which he always tried to be – he wasn’t morbidly shocked that Lance would ask another guy on a date. Lance practically screamed _Sexual Frustration: College Edition._ But Keith wasn’t just _another guy_. He was Keith.

 

There was a long silence, and for a fraction of a moment, Lance thought Keith was going to flop over and die. (Believe me, he wanted to.) But finally, Keith managed to speak.

 

“Why in the _sweet Hell_ would I go on a date with _you_?” He wasn’t sure if he was asking Lance or himself.

 

“Well,” Lance started, and Keith could sense he was in for a treat. “For one, I’m charming. I’m also intelligent, funny, _and_ insanely beautiful. The real question is why _wouldn’t_ you, Keith?” The sound of Keith’s name rolling off the tip of his tongue made Keith’s spine tingle. “Plus, Pidge bet me twenty bucks you wouldn’t say yes.”

 

Once again, Keith got the odd sensation of his un-beating heart shattering. He knew with every fiber of his being that he should’ve been thankful; he wasn’t interested anyway, right? Plus, it was unfair of Lance to tamper with Keith’s emotions that way. Keith wasn’t used to any interaction with other people, which is why he felt everything so deeply. It was like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. Lance should’ve known. Lance should’ve _cared_ , and Keith felt betrayed by the friend he never even had. Was this how normal people acted? If so, Keith was glad he’d kept his distance this long.

 

Despite all of the facts that presented themselves before Keith, he couldn’t stop the next word from leaving his lips, as if it was involuntary. The word wedged its way between Keith’s clenched teeth, spilling out of his mouth as if the universe and all of it’s inhabitants had pushed him to say it.

 

“Yes.”

 

He was a sucker for punishment.

 

Lance gawked, as if he couldn’t believe his ears – which Keith noted were rather large, in comparison to his thin head. Keith was rather enjoying this game of learning the secrets of Lance’s body. He wasn’t sure which part was his favorite. Maybe the caramel coloring of his skin, or his constellation freckles.

 

“Well, I guess I’ll pick you up at seven.”

 

***

 

“How do I look?”

 

Keith felt scrutinizing eyes looking him up and down, as if every square inch of his appearance was being judged. He had cleaned up rather nicely, if he did say so himself; his usually unmanageable hair was pulled into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck, tied with a little red hair tie. He was clad in his favorite shirt – a black, long-sleeved shirt he had bought himself for his nineteenth birthday – and a pair of black skinny jeans. He even went so far as to trade his black Converse sneakers for a pair of all-black Toms. Keith patiently waited for the spectator’s response.

 

Looking him up and down once more before judgment, the cat let out an approving, “Mee-ow.”

 

And then the doorbell rang.

 

Keith hesitated with his hand on the doorknob, half-tempted to say something along the lines of, _‘Keith’s not home. Go away.’_ but in the end, decided against it. He mentally prepared himself before opening the door slowly.

 

No amount of preparing could’ve readied him for the sight he was awarded.

 

Lance was stood in the doorway, hands shoved deep within the confines of his pockets. If Keith thought he looked like ten, Lance was a solid twelve, and even that was an understatement.

 

He was wearing a tight-knit grey sweater that fit his muscular form to a T, and Keith silently wondered if the two were wearing the same black skinny jeans. Black Converse shoes covered his feet, which made Keith curse under his breath and miss his own shoes. To top it all off, a cozy looking red scarf was wound around his neck, completing the look.

 

“You look…” Keith struggled to find the right words. “Nice.”

 

_‘Would now be the time to hurl myself down a flight of steps, or later?’_

 

“Yeah,” Lance’s signature smirk took its place on thin lips. “I know.”

 

Keith’s expression dropped, any feelings of remorse or embarrassment he held _immediately_ losing effect.

 

“Alright, lover boy. Let’s go.”

 

***

 

The drive to… wherever they were going… was long and silent. Lance had turned on his _“All-time-favorite-driving-CD”_ as he liked to call it, which mostly consisted of Madonna, Beyoncé, and various romance songs.

 

Katy Perry’s _Unconditionally_ was the last song to play before the duo reached their destination, and the intimacy of the lyrics made Keith uncomfortable. A few lines seemed to register to him, almost resembling the upmost chaos in his head. The situation was rather unpleasant.

 

He was on the verge of begging Lance to turn off the music when his small car came to a halt.

 

“We’re here.” He announced, killing the engine.

 

Keith looked out at the scenery before them, and stopped dead in his tracks.

 

“Where exactly is… here?”

They were parked in front of a small pond, which, on most occasions would be cute and romantic. Go for a swim, sit on the surrounding stones, have a small picnic. Except it was dark out, and the middle of October.

 

Keith wondered if Lance had decided to return to his idea from earlier that day and drown him. Boy, would he be surprised when he learned Keith was undead.

 

Keith was running through his eulogy when Lance got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He watched, blinking as Lance walked around to open his door for him. Keith stepped out, giving an embarrassed “Thanks.” Before deciding Lance wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of dressing so nicely and opening his door if he was just going to kill him.

 

“What are we doing?” Keith’s voice was barley a whisper. He was regretting his decision to come.

 

“You’ll see.” Keith looked up to see a small, crooked smile on Lance’s face; it completely changed his entire dynamic, making him look calm and friendly. Keith liked this new Lance.

 

Gesturing for Keith to stay put, Lance walked backwards down to the stone beach. Keith watched, completely awestruck, as a pale blue light emitted from Lance’s palm, and upon further inspection, Keith noticed a small snowflake floating inside the faint glow. Lance was evidently concentrated on crafting the flake to perfection, and when it was just right, he flicked the snowflake up in the air.

 

The flake combusted, sending a flurry of little white flakes in every which direction. It was snowing. Lance had made it snow.

 

He leaned down, touching his pointer finger to the undoubtedly chilled water, and ice broke out across the surface, the entire pond freezing over almost instantly. Keith couldn’t believe his eyes. Was this the Lance Keith had come to know? Did Keith even know the _true_ Lance? He’d only known him for a week, but Keith had originally suspected there wasn’t much to know; he had marked Lance off as a shallow pool, but as time went on, Keith realized that Lance was an all-too-deep ocean that he might never understand.

 

“Well?” Lance gestured proudly, and rightfully so. “What do you think, Mullet?”

 

“Wow.” Was all Keith could muster, taking an involuntary step towards Lance.

 

Lance took a step, and at first, Keith thought he was walking towards him. But Lance walked on past him, and to the car. He leaned in and flicked on the headlights, seemingly not caring if he drained his battery. “Come on.”

 

“Come on?” Keith paused, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah.” Lance blinked, taking both of Keith’s hands into his own and walking towards the freshly frozen pond. “You’ve never been skating before?”

 

“Uhm, no?” Keith was being honest. “I’ve never had anyone to go with or teach me.”

 

Lance stared at him for a half second, some emotion resembling grief on his face before shaking it and grinning. “Well, you’re going to learn today.”

 

“But it’s embarrassing, and I don’t know how.”

 

“Too bad.” Lance shrugged.

 

“It’s cold.”

 

Okay, now he was just making up excuses.

 

He expected Lance to give another _“Too bad.”_ But instead he took the vibrant red scarf off of his neck and swaddled Keith up like a small child. “There you go.” Keith’s hand moved up to gently touch the scarf; it was still warm, and smelt like Lance in an oddly comforting way.

 

Lance took his hands again, leading him out onto the pond. Keith stepped perilously, almost immediately slipping and taking them both down. Lance saved the day, catching and steadying him.

 

Keith let out an awkward laugh, expecting Lance to make fun of him, but he was just smiling to himself. The intensity of his gaze made Keith so hot he was nervous he’d melt the ice.

 

After _a lot_ of trial and error, the two boys were gliding across the shimmery surface, holding hands and spinning. Their laughs filled the night sky, floating around with the snow and the birds.

 

Keith was completely out of his element. Literally. Yet he was having the time of his life; being with Lance was exciting, and Keith couldn’t wait to see what emotion he would feel next.

 

“Show me your magic.” The two boys were lid on the ice, staring up at the sky.

 

“No.” Keith whispered, his eyes never leaving the Big Dipper.

 

“Please?” Lance was whispering now, too. “I want to see it.”

 

Keith pondered the thought for a long moment; it was only fair. Lance had shared his. But what if he was afraid? He couldn’t see Keith for the monster he truly was. He only wanted to see because Keith was a freak show.

 

“You don’t have to if you’re not up to it.” Lance broke the heavy silence. “I just think it’s…”

 

“Terrifying?” Keith cut him off.

 

“Fascinating.”

 

Keith stopped breathing. All of his life, all he’d ever faced was rejection. All he’d known was the hatred of being individual; a Galra Empire bred witch who had escaped the fate of being a villain. Lance found him fascinating.

 

Keith moved to his feet, taking a deep breath – Lance was still lid on the ice, watching him intently. He started out by lighting the tips of his fingers on fire; a typical Keith move. He tried to ignore the physical change. Slowly, the fire spread until it reached the palms of his hands, and Keith could feel the power surging through him.

 

Mimicking his actions from earlier, he spun in a small circle, the flames leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. He continued in this manner for a minute or so, and that’s when it happened. His Necromancy (the ability to raise the dead) kicked in, and spirits – taking the forms of flames – started to appear around him. They looked like shadows on fire, following Keith’s actions.

 

Keith and the spirits danced side by side, and all Lance could do was watch. He gawked, eyes wide and full of wonder at the scene before him. He was completely entranced, as if Keith had used some spellbinding technique.

 

That’s when Keith and Lance simultaneously noticed the small group of teenagers watching from behind Lance’s car.

 

Keith immediately lost his balance, falling onto his knees and catching himself on his palms. Lance rushed to his side, skillfully avoiding the spirits as they vanished into thin air one after the other. “Keith!” His voice rang with concern.

 

“What did I do?” Keith’s voice was raspy and full of remorse; he had finally found someone who’s demons played well with his, and he raised the _fricking dead_. “Everyone is staring. I’m a monster.”

Lance knelt beside him, his hand moving to rest on Keith’s shoulder – a notion he had learned from Shiro – the other hand moving to gently tilt Keith’s face up to look at him.

 

“They’re not staring because you’re a monster.” His voice was still full of wonder. Keith looked up at him, eyes wide. “They’re staring because you’re beautiful.”

 

That was Keith’s breaking point.

 

His eyes filled to the brim with tears, threatening to spill at any moment. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” His voice broke on the last syllable.

 

“The only thing I’m afraid of is doing something I’ll regret.”

 

Keith was the prettiest Hell Lance had ever been in; he didn’t mind burning at all.

 

The rest of the night was spent like every cliché _Nicholas Sparks_ novel, talking about everything and anything, and when they arrived at Keith’s door, it was his turn to surprise Lance.

 

“I know what you’re thinking.” Keith was leaning in the doorway of his dorm, looking up at Lance.

 

“No you don’t.” Lance shook his head once, his voice quiet.

 

“Yes I do.” Keith found himself smiling. “You’re wondering if you should kiss me or not.”

 

Lance’s face flooded blood red. “Alright. Maybe you do know what I’m thinking... It isn’t an official date until I kiss you goodnight.”

 

Keith looked up at him, and for the longest time, it was silent. “What ever will you tell Pidge?” He smirked before leaning up on the tips of his toes to press a chaste kiss to Lance’s lips.

 

Volts of electricity surged through his lips as fire mixed with water, and Keith finally understood where the analogy of _sparks fly_ came from. Lance’s lips were soft, molding perfectly into Keith’s.

 

“Goodnight.” He whispered against his lips, stepping inside and closing the door on a very flustered Lance.

 

Inside, Ace was waiting.

 

“What?” Keith stared down at the kitten. “Don’t judge.”

 

But now Keith had a problem. His erratic heart had gotten the better of him. He was finally feeling, and now there was no way to stop the flow.

 

And Keith was going to die in three months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only reason Keith fell so quickly was because he isn't used to emotions. Poor baby. ;n; And iM SORrY for the CliFf HanGer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He would do it for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the drama begins.

Keith’s fingers moved to ghost over his lips, his back pressed flush against the door. They were still tingling, and he could’ve sworn Lance’s cool breath had permanently chilled his lower lip.

 

Everything about their kiss had been perfect; it had only lasted a few seconds, but Keith couldn’t stop replaying the scene in his mind.

 

The mild height difference hadn’t been an issue liked Keith had previously feared – he wasn’t _that_ much shorter, but he’d still had to lean on the tips of his toes – and Lance’s breath had been freezing, as if he’d infused ice particles into it. Keith’s breath was as steamy as usual. Lance had kissed him with such unimaginable intensity, and Lance’s face when Keith closed the door was something the fire mage wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon.

 

Keith knew for a fact that even if he had the ability to sleep – which he didn’t – he wouldn’t have been able to; he wanted to lie in his bed and be alone with himself. He needed time to process everything that had happened, and to ask himself the important questions – _how did this happen? Why did it all happen so quickly? What comes next?_

Keith – by all rights – should’ve been terrified. To go from feeling nothing at all to everything all at once? To go from an outsider who had never confided in _anyone_ to kissing the most popular guy at school?

 

Keith had wanted to die. Lance, in the span of one day, had made him want to live. He broke down Keith’s walls, and then rebuilt them stronger and taller than ever before; this time, he added windows to let the sunshine in.

 

Lance had completely refabricated Keith’s monotone world, replacing it with one with him at the center. That vain idiot would’ve been pleased with himself.

 

The worst part? Keith didn’t care. Keith’s life completely surrounded _one terribly attractive jackass,_ and he didn’t mind in the slightest. He gave the Lance the ability to hurt him, to crush him. Keith realized that this is what trust must feel life – to give someone your entire life and trust them not to make you regret it.

 

Keith couldn’t be terrified; he was too damn _excited._

All he wanted was – for the first time in forever – to lie by himself, listen to his music, and feel _happy._ And that’s exactly what he did.

 

Keith shoved his little white headphones deep into his ears and hit shuffle, collapsing backwards onto his bed.

 

Don’t Let Me Down by The Chainsmokers was the first song to play, and Keith closed his eyes, letting the music embrace him. Every note was like a pulse thrumming through his body, like how he assumed blood would feel flowing through his veins. Keith wasn’t human – he wasn’t even a _normal_ inhuman – he was undead. Fear had flowed through his veins for the largest portion of his life. But now? Keith was free. He wore his tragedies as armor instead of shackles.

 

“ _Thank you, Lance.”_ He whispered to himself, earning one _really_ confused look from Ace.

 

That’s when Keith made up his mind; saving Lance might be the _only_ good thing he would do in his life. He only had three months, but he would spend every moment protecting Lance and learning how to cast the spell known as Voltron. He wouldn’t leave the boy he loved alone in a world that would swallow him whole; he would create a safe place for Lance. Keith would have to take a step forwards and work with the world that had always hated him.

 

He would do it for _him._

 

***

 

When morning came around, Keith was ready to go; being undead had its advantages. While everyone was asleep, Keith had showered, washed and dried his laundry, and finished his already-overdue assignment.

 

By the time six o’clock came around, he was dressed in the required uniform – a white button up (which Keith preferred to roll up to his elbows) with a black pullover on top, black dress pants, and pointed black boots (which he courteously ignored in favor of his black Converse shoes). – And his hair was pulled into a little ponytail at the nape of his neck, a style he had taken a liking to as of late.

 

Keith grabbed his _Level II Magic Precision_ textbook and hurried out of his dorm, nearly forgetting to lock the door behind him; Professor Shiro always opened his classroom an hour early incase someone needed help. He didn’t say it _had_ to be class-related help.

 

When he arrived, thankfully, no one was there. Keith thanked the higher powers before lightly tapping on the ancient oak door.

_That’s odd._ Keith thought to himself. _The door is never closed._

 

“Excuse me, Proffesso–” Keith’s breath hitched in his throat, every nerve ending in his body freezing in its tracks.

 

_That’s why the door had been shut._

 

Keith couldn’t advert his eyes; he was being invasive, and selfish, and downright creepy, but he couldn’t look away.

 

Princess Allura was sat atop the professor’s desk, her pastel blue dress riding up over her waist, her unusually neat hair looking unruly and wild. Shiro was wedged in between her legs, his hands grabbing and squeezing at her bare, melted-chocolate thighs and hips. His expensive, custom-cut tux was unbuttoned, his tie barely hanging onto his neck.

 

The two were engaged in an evidently heated kiss, and for the time being, Keith’s presence went completely unnoticed. The two were descent enough and no unusual body parts were visible – for now.

 

So, the rumors were true.

 

 _What the hell do I do?_ Keith wracked his brain for an answer. _Do I call his name? No, that’d be creepy. Do I just leave? No, that would be even creepier._

Finally, deciding there was no winning solution, Keith let out an awkward cough.

 

Shiro’s fingers immediately flexed, pressing into Allura’s outer thigh. He’d been caught red handed – or chocolate handed, rather.

 

Allura’s eyes locked with Keith’s for a fraction of a second, her bronzed skin taking on a reddish hue. Any hint of excitement or exhilaration was gone, replaced by sheer embarrassment and regret.

 

The professor turned to Keith, his hands moving to ghost across the scar on his nose – a habit he saved for when he was embarrassed – clearing his throat. When he spoke, his voice was deep and scratchy.

 

“Sorry, Keith. I forgot the door was unlocked.”

 

Keith moved to uncomfortably twist a piece of his hair around his forefinger, his eyes moving _anywhere_ except the two flustered authorities in front of him. “It’s okay, sir. I just needed some help with last weeks assignment.”

 

Yes, it was a lie. What else was he supposed to say? ‘Don’t mind me, professor. I came to talk about my petty drama and impending doom. Sorry for the interruption. By the way, you look lovely today, Princess.’

 

Shiro looked up to Allura, who still hadn’t stood but managed to fix her hair and dress, and then back to Keith. He scratched the back of his head, and Keith could clearly recognize his guilt and frustration.

 

Keith looked up to the woman on the desk, then back to the professor. “I’ll just come by later.” He gestured dismissively, turning on the heels of his sneakers to make a hasty exit, but Shiro’s voice stopped him in his tracks, and suddenly, his voice was ringing with the compassion and authority that Keith knew and respected.

 

“Keith, my students come before my personal life. While I’d appreciate it if you kept quiet about this…” He paused, and Keith could hear him shifting. “Encounter…” That was one word for it. “I’d also appreciate it if you still confided in me.”

 

Keith turned to see Allura gazing at the broad man, a soft smile forming on her lips. This was the man she loved – the man who was caring and protective. Soft and reassuring. Gentle and strong. It was easy to sense their connection when he was this close; the two evened each other out well; where she was weak, he was strong. Where he was defenseless, she was his protector. They complemented each other, wearing each other’s presence as an armor of sorts. Keith couldn’t believe he thought the rumors were, well, _rumors._

 

“I’ll see you at five.” Allura leapt from the table, leaving Shiro with a coy wave before heading towards the door. “Oh, and Keith,” With her foot at the door lip, she turned to look over her shoulder at Keith, her kittenish ambience turning murderous. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

 

_A day earlier, and his answer would’ve been, ‘It’s a little late for that.’_

 

With that, she was gone, nothing but a spine-chilling memory filling her place. Keith thought he saw Shiro shudder.

 

“Anyways,” He turned to Keith after a moment. “How can I help you?”

 

The fire enchanter blinked, wondering how to phrase what he was about to say. “Well, I lied.” Shiro raised a thick eyebrow, but otherwise remained silent.

 

“I don’t need to talk to you about the assignment.” Keith admitted, his hands finding their way and pushing into is uniform pants. “I need to talk to you about Voltron.”

 

Shiro eyed him skeptically, his eyebrows creasing in concern. He was undoubtedly thinking about the last Voltron mishap. “Listen, Keith… I know how you feel about the world. It’s unfair, and cruel–”

 

“Shiro.” Keith interrupted, unsuccessfully.

 

“But there are good people out there–”

 

“Professor.”

 

“You just need to look a little closer.”

 

“Shiro!” Keith’s voice cut through the classroom, snapping the professor out of his tangent. “I want to join Voltron. I’m in love with Lance.”

 

Keith waited for the reaction; the initial shock, the disgust, the backlash even. But it never came. Instead, Shiro placed a firm but comforting hand to his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Love makes people blind, Keith. But it makes them brave, too.”

 

Keith could sense he wasn’t just spouting random nonsense; Shiro was speaking from experience. He meant every word down to the last syllable. Keith felt uncomfortable under the intensity of his words, but couldn’t deny their truth. Lance had completely disrupted everything in Keith’s life; he had caused Keith to feel emotions recklessly and at an outrageous pace, but he couldn’t deny the simple truth – he enjoyed every second of it.

 

“I can’t get that asshole out of my head.” Keith wasn’t one with words like Shiro, definitely not abusing his ‘poetic abilities’, but he still conveyed his point. “I’d follow him to the edge of the world.”

 

The professor chuckled, his understanding eyes watching Keith’s every move. Something about the hotheaded – literally – enchanter reminded Shiro of himself when he was young, bittersweet nostalgia flooding into his system. “I know exactly how you feel, Keith. I’ve been there. I _am_ there.”

 

Keith looked up at Shiro beneath his thick eyelashes, eyes wide and filled with an emotion Shiro couldn’t quite place. “Allura.” He whispered.

 

Shiro nodded, but didn’t say anything. He was still recovering from the embarrassment of being caught with his lover, fearing the talk he’d _undoubtedly_ be getting later.

 

Keith was pinching a piece of his hair between his forefinger and thumb, trying to process everything. “I would do anything – _be anything_ – for him, and he probably doesn’t even realize it.”

 

“Well, have you told him how you feel? You can’t expect him to just _know._ ” This was true, and Keith knew it. “People are insecure, Keith. Humans and magical beings alike. If you don’t tell people how you feel, you risk losing them to a battle you created yourself.”

 

Keith had never thought of it _that_ way before. Shiro was right, though. Completely right. What if Lance thought Keith had some passing infatuation? What if Lance felt the same way, but thought Keith was unsure? There were a million different scenarios that could end in destruction – Keith had to find Lance and tell him how he truly felt, and he had to do it _now._

 

Mirroring Shiro’s actions, Keith placed his hand on the shadow mage’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Professor Shirogane. Honestly.”

 

And with that, Keith was off in search for Lance, hoping he could find the words and the courage to speak them.

 

First he checked the showers; the usual sound of Lance’s thumping music was gone, an empty silence in its wake. The room was still steamy, the windows fogged up and dripping – Keith had probably missed him by a minute or two at most.

 

He checked the bathrooms and Lance’s dorm, the library and all the classrooms, with little to no success. All he managed to find out was that the librarian had seen him go into a dorm earlier; she didn’t remember which one.

 

Keith cursed under his breath, _really_ not feeling the confidence to go knocking on random dorms looking for him. He would have to wait until an opportunity presented itself.

 

 _What’s the worst that could happen?_ He thought to himself. _It’s not like Lance is going to just vanish._

 

_I hope._

 

***

 

Hours passed, and soon enough it was time to retire to the dining hall for lunch; Keith still hadn’t bumped into Lance. He wasn’t in any of his classes, which was a surprise – people didn’t just _miss_ classes without a good reason in the House of Altea.

 

A nervous lump began to form in his throat, a thin layer of sweat breaking out across his forehead. A plethora of images attacked him, varying from Lance having the flu to him lying in a coffin.

 

Was Keith being irrational? Probably. Did he care? Not an ice cube’s chance in Hell.

 

If Lance was hurt, Keith needed to know.

 

 _I wasn’t hungry anyways._ Keith mused.

 

He paced out of the dining hall, hands in his pockets. Where did he start? He barely had time to contemplate and plan his search before a joyous laughter disrupted his reverie. Who else wasn’t in the dining hall? Keith was about to find out.

 

The door to the school’s Lecture Theater (he’d only been in this room for the opening and closing ceremonies, maybe an assembly or two) was cracked open, barely enough to notice – in fact, if no one had laughed, Keith would’ve walked by completely oblivious to the presence lying behind the door.

 

Keith slowly creaked it open enough to peek inside, wincing when it made a low groan. Thankfully, the people inside didn’t seem to notice – there were only two of them, sat back on in the front row. They were the only two in the room, unless you counted Keith who was standing in the doorway behind the very back row.

 

Keith immediately recognized one of the boys as Hunk, the air enchanter. He wasn’t hard to distinguish with his height and curvaceous form. Keith couldn’t pick out who the other boy sat back on was. The two were obviously engaged in a pivotal discussion, facing each other. Keith wished he were closer so he could clearly see and hear them.

 

Suddenly, Hunk reached out and grabbed the familiar strangers hand, holding it tightly – the gesture wasn’t violent. It was romantic in an intense way.

 

The two continued talking for a brief moment before Hunk leaned in, placing a gentle kiss to the boy in the seat next to him and Keith wondered how he’d never noticed Hunk and this boy before; the only boy Keith ever saw Hunk with was Lance.

 

But the boy in the chair couldn’t be Lance. No. Lance was with Keith.

 

Lance belonged to Keith, not Hunk.

 

Keith decided he needed a closer look; he couldn’t keep inspecting the two lovebirds from his spot peeking through the door. He needed a good look. Pushing it open further and sneaking inside, he crouched down behind the twelfth row back from where the two sat, watching in horror as the nightmare played out before his eyes.

 

The anxiety curled into his stomach, hands clawing up his throat and choking him of any breath he’d had. He was glad he was crouching because his legs felt wobbly beneath him, like they would buckle at any given moment.

 

Lance’s face was peaceful as Hunk cradled it in his large palm. “Thank you, Hunk.” He whispered. Hunk smiled, but something about it looked pained – Keith didn’t feel like sticking around to find out why.

 

For once in his life, Keith was stumped for a solution. Did he yell? Did he cry? Did he just leave?

 

With a shallow breath, he decided a combination of all three would work best.

 

“You’ll never change, Lance.” His voice was weak, but his words weren’t by any means. They were spoken fiercely, and even though his voice broke on Lance’s name, he managed to speak once more. “You gave me hope, a reason to live, and I can’t believe you took it away.”

 

Lance’s head jerked out of Hunk’s hand, eyes wide as he took in the sight of Keith turning and walking up the staircase leading towards the exit. He didn’t have to be a genius to see that the boy was crying; his shoulders were shaking like leaves in the autumn wind.

 

“Keith, wait.” Keith heard Lance scramble to his feet, leaping over a few chairs to chase after him. Keith couldn’t even look at him right now, and for the first time in his life, Keith knew what was like to give yourself to someone completely and have them break you.

 

“Just wait, Keith! I can explain.” Lance was a few paces behind him now, his voice pleading and helpless. _‘Leave it to Lance to play the victim here_.’ Keith thought sourly. “Just hear me out.”

 

Keith whirled around so quickly that the band tying his hair back came off, his brown hair falling down to frame his face. “I don’t want to hear _anything_ from you.” He spat bitterly, the hurt as plain as the nose on his face. “I gave you everything, Lance. I practically ripped my heart out of my chest and placed it in your hands.” The image wasn’t romantic, but it got the job done. “I gave you _all of me,_ Lance. And you _betrayed_ me.”

 

The words – accompanied by the tears that had rimmed Keith’s eyes – left Lance at a loss from words, his mouth hung open ever so slightly, his hand outstretched, dangling in the empty air as if he were going to touch Keith. Keith hoped he knew better.

 

“ _God, you’re such an asshole._ ” Keith used his forearm to wipe away the tears that had accumulated on his cheeks, hating himself for breaking his silent vow not to cry over that idiot. He turned for the last time, leaving just as silently as he’d entered.

 

***

 

Keith was completely silent until he reached his dorm – the last thing he needed was to throw a fit in the corridor. He tried to ignore the shocked stares he received as various Enchanters and Enchantresses noticed the stream of tears refusing to stop. Keith had only cried a few times in his life – five times at most. He was embarrassed that the situation had pushed him to sobbing.

 

Once he got inside his room, he slammed the door behind him, causing an old photo of him to fall off of the wall, the glass frame shattering into a million different pieces. Ace jumped up from his usual spot on the couch, scrambling off to some hiding place.

 

“ _Stupid, stupid, stupid!”_ Keith yelled to nobody but himself, kicking around an old backpack that had been lying on the floor, sending it into the wall. The next thing to be thrown was Lance’s scarf that had been hung on the coatrack by the door – Keith had forgot to give it back after their date – and he threw it to the floor, stomping on it until he was satisfied.

 

He continued in this manner for a few minutes, breaking a few miscellaneous objects here and there, before crashing onto his knees, clutching his heart as if was about to break his rib cage and fall right out of his chest. He placed his forehead to the cold hardwood flooring, clenching his eyes shut.

He knelt there, feeling the world spinning and crashing around him – it was such a different sensation than the one he had been feeling when he’d left this morning. Keith cursed himself for ever mocking anyone who dared to tell their story of a broken heart – Keith had marked them off as petty and weak, but after this, he was seeing them in a whole other light.

When he found the strength to get to his feet, he stumbled over to his cellphone, dialing the office. The secretary – an elderly lady who always smelt like peppermint candies and vanilla – answered the phone, giving the standard, “Hello, how can I help you?”

 

Keith quietly informed her that he had been feeling flu like symptoms and probably wouldn’t be in class for the remainder of the evening – it was Friday, so he had all weekend to prepare for Monday’s classes, where he would have to see Lance again.

 

After assuring her that he was fine at _least_ five times, he hung up and made his way to his bed, crashing onto it and curling up into a ball. He pulled his red fleece blanket up over his head, closed his eyes, and pretended he could sleep.

 

When he was pulled from his trance, a small scowl graced his lips; he was having a much nicer time ‘asleep.’ It was like a reverse nightmare – being asleep was the dream. He was waking up into a nightmare.

 

It took Keith several moments to notice that it was his phone that had stirred him, and upon closer inspection, he realized that someone had called a number of times. He was shocked to see that it was twelve o’clock already – it had been one when Keith crashed. Eleven hours of closing his eyes and pretending he was a mere human or witch who could nap away his problems.

 

He leaned over, grabbed the phone off of his nightstand, and without moving from his place on the bed, he answered. “Hello?” Keith’s voice sounded tired – a phenomenon he had never witnessed before. It was low and gruff.

 

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?” It was evidently Lance’s voice on the other end, making Keith wince, but something was different; for one, his words were slurred and funny sounding. There were evidently a lot of people talking around him, but they had to shout over the loud music thrumming.

 

“What do you want, Lance?” Keith rubbed his eye with his free hand, moving into a sitting position. That’s when he started to piece things together. “Are you… drunk?”

 

“Me? Drunk? No.” Okay, he was clearly drunk.

 

“Lance–”

 

“Alright, you caught me officer. I’m a little tipsy.” Lance laughed on the other end, and Keith groaned at his stupidity. Why was he drunk? Even more importantly, why was he calling Keith?

 

“What do you want, Lance?” Keith repeated, his voice noticeably more irritated. He didn’t like how Lance was acting so casual, as if was completely ignoring the Hell Keith had been through in the course of a day.

 

“I want to talk to you, Keith.” He mocked Keith’s annoyed tone horridly, still laughing to himself.

 

“Well, that’s not good enough.” Keith’s thumb had been hovering over the end key when Lance cut in abruptly.

 

“No, wait!” Keith rolled his eyes, but let him continue. “I need a ride home.”

 

_Just great. Now I’m his lackey._

 

Keith weighed his options; on one hand, picking him up would be the _right_ thing to do. Keith didn’t want him to drunkenly stumble into the road, or attempt to drive. On the other hand, Keith wanted to give that bastard what he deserved. Lance should’ve at least had to pay for his own cab or something.

 

Lance spoke again before Keith had a chance to give his answer. “Please, Keith. I’m broke and drunk as Hell.”

 

“Fine.” Keith groaned, swinging his legs out over the side of the bed. “Where are you?”

 

***

 

When Keith pulled up in his black Honda Civic, Lance was waiting for him on the side of the road. He was alone; his head leaned against the brick wall, his eyes closed as if he was asleep.

 

Keith rolled down the window, unlocking the passenger seat door. “Hurry up and get in.”

 

Lance opened one of his eyes but made no motion to move. “How about you come in for a dance.”

 

“Not a chance.” Keith was hell-bent and determined; he wasn’t going _anywhere_ with Lance, much less some deadbeat pub.

 

“It’s only one dance.” He argued, but upon looking at Keith, he realized _nothing_ he could say would make the fire mage change his mind. “Fine.”

 

Keith didn’t realize how drunk he actually was until he stumbled towards the car, nearly losing his balance twice. It took him far too long to get into Keith’s car and get situated. Almost immediately, the car filled with the reek of stale alcohol. “Let’s listen to music. Hand me the aux cord.”

 

“No.” Keith kept his eyes on the road as he pulled away, unable to look at the boy sitting next to him. It was just as Keith had predicted – Lance didn’t care in the slightest. “You’re lucky I even picked you up.”

 

Lance drunkenly leaned his head against Keith’s shoulder – which Keith jerked off quickly – letting out a soft whine. “Cut me some slack, man. I dumped someone today.”

 

This could _not_ be happening right now. Lance was honestly going to do it. He was going to play the victim. Keith had to clench every muscle in his body to resist hauling off and plowing the jackass in the jaw. Between clenched teeth, he spoke. “I wasn’t your boyfriend, Lance. We had one date.”

 

As Keith said the words, he realized their truth. They _had_ only been on one date. Keith had invested in a contract he hadn’t even read to the end, so it was only expected that he would get played – it was a simple rule that Keith should’ve known better than anyone. You play with fire and you get burned.

 

“I wasn’t talking about _you_ , Keith. Shut your quiznak.”

 

Keith glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, eyebrows raised. “I hope you realize I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Lance sighed as if Keith had said something completely unnecessary and annoying. “I’m talking about Hunk.” _Yeah,_ Keith thought to himself. _It sure looked like you guys were going through a tragic breakup._ “We weren’t actually dating, but he’s had a crush on me since forever, so I was just telling him that I was thinking about getting serious with you, Mr. Monotone. That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier.”

 

Keith nearly swerved off the road.

 

His hand gripped the steering wheel, the skin covering his knuckles turning white. “But… But he kissed you.” Keith’s voice was quiet. He was surprised Lance actually heard him.

 

“Yeah,” Lance shrugged as if it was the most casual thing he’d ever done. “I’ve kissed hundreds of people. It doesn’t mean anything if there’re no emotions behind it.” Keith could sense he was sobering up – he wasn’t leaning on anything anymore, just sat up straight and staring at the road ahead.

 

“Well,” Keith kept his eyes glued to the pavement. “I’m sorry for what I said. I meant it… but I should’ve let you talk.”

Lance was quiet for a moment, his drunken brain attempting to process everything. “I’m sorry, too. I made you cry. I had to get wasted to forget it… but it didn’t really help.”

 

Keith chuckled once, although he didn’t find it particularly funny. _If you don’t tell people how you feel, you risk losing them to a battle you created yourself._ Shiro’s words rang in his ear. It was silent for a few minutes, but it wasn’t awkward like Keith expected. He was just trying to find answers, and he figured Lance was trying to do the same.

 

“Just give me one dance. That’s all I’m asking. Even if you hate me.”

 

Was he still caught up on that? Keith had said no. Multiple times. Keith didn’t dance, not for Lance, not for anyone. But what if he did? What if he bent the rules this one time? He had lashed out at Lance without knowing the whole story – if Lance _was_ telling the truth – so the least he could do was give him a dance. It was only one, right?

 

With a defeated sigh, Keith pulled over on the side of the road; they were in the middle of nowhere, just an empty street lined with shops closed for the night. Towering streetlights casted a warm yellow glow, flickering every once in a while.

 

Keith put the car in park, unbuckling his seatbelt.

 

“What’re you doing?” Lance was suddenly more aware – definitely sobering up as Keith noted.

 

“We’re going to have a dance.” Keith opened the driver’s door, stepping out onto the asphalt. Once he was standing, he stretched, realizing how much he needed the fresh air. “ _One_ dance.” He wanted to make himself clear. “I hope you brought your phone.” Lance was suddenly unbuckling his seatbelt, fumbling with it for a second before hearing the click. He tried to open the door multiple times before realizing it was locked.

 

Once he joined Keith in the night’s air, he moved to lean against the passenger door, scrolling through his phone. Lance was looking for the perfect song – if they were only going to have _one_ dance, Lance wanted to make it memorable. “Got it.” He whispered to himself, hitting play and laying the phone on the hood of Keith’s car.

 

The music began to play, an unfamiliar song consisting of a lot of guitar and violin beginning to play. Keith had never heard it, but could clearly identify the singer as Ed Sheeran.

 

Lance took Keith’s hand and led him out into the middle of the road so they were standing directly beneath the streetlight. “May I have this dance, Mr. Kogane?”

 

Keith could feel his cheeks grow red, a sea of blood pooling in his cheeks – Lance could watch him becoming visibly uncomfortable. He didn’t say anything; he just nodded, an inaudible gasp escaping his lips as the water mage pulled him close enough that their chests touched. “Good.” Lance whispered in his ear, causing Keith to shudder as his icy breath fanned over his neck and ear.

 

Lance was the first to move, his fingers intertwining with Keith’s clammy ones. He began moving in the standard waltz style, making sure to keep a pace Keith could conform to. Every now and then, his thumb would brush across the back of Keith’s hand, the hand that was placed on the small of Keith’s back shifting lower.

 

Keith didn’t really mind that he was acting as the ‘girl’ in the dance; he was too preoccupied by watching the way the streetlights glinted off of Lance’s bronze skin, illuminating his freckles like a path leading to nowhere. “What song is this?” He whispered, just to avoid the awkward silence.

 

“Give me love.” Lance’s voice was low and husky, almost a mere whisper.

 

Goosebumps colored Keith’s skin, causing him to embarrassedly burry his face into Lance’s shoulder. “Answer the question.”

 

Lance laughed, but it wasn’t mocking. It reminded Keith of Lance’s smile as he taught him to skate. “Give me love _is_ the name of the song.”

 

Well, Keith felt like an idiot. “Oh.”

 

The two continued to slowly move in circles, and every now and then Keith would accidently step on the tips of Lance’s toes – which Lance courteously ignored – or miss a step. He listened to the lyrics, trying to piece together why Lance had chosen _this_ song.

 

“You don’t love me, Lance.” He whispered after the chorus had played through for the second time.

 

“You’re right.” Lance agreed quietly – Keith had known the truth, but it still hurt to hear Lance admit it. “I don’t feel things the same way you do, Keith. You’re new to love… you feel everything so strongly. So, no. I’m not in love with you.” Lance’s lips leaned in to press against the shell of Keith’s ear, gently squeezing his hand. “But I _am_ falling in love with you.”

 

Keith didn’t stop moving, but he did stop breathing. He physically held his breath, pressing his face into the crook of Lance’s neck. He couldn’t look up. He couldn’t do anything except clench his eyes and wonder when this emotional rollercoaster would end. He needed to say something, and for the second time that day, Shiro’s words echoed in his head.

 

_If you don’t tell people how you feel, you risk losing them to a battle you created yourself._

“I do love you, Lance.” Keith admitted, forcing himself to speak before he lost the nerve. “I love your _stupid_ laugh, and your _idiotic_ little crooked smile. I love how you talk, and how you move.” Lance opened his mouth to say something, but Keith cut him off.

 

“I hate it, Lance. I hate it _so damn much_ , because you’re such an idiot.” This was true. Keith hated himself for caring. “And if you ever tell anyone, I’ll kill you.” This was also true. “But I do love you, Lance. I love you more than anything.”

 

Keith’s buried his fingers into Lance’s shirt, clutching onto it for dear life. He ghosted his lips over the water mage’s neck, placing a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin.

 

A low groan left Lance’s lips, a reaction Keith was _not_ expecting to inflict. Keith smirked to himself, proud that he’d discovered a new ‘magical’ ability.

 

“I know you love me.” At least the vain asshole was honest. “And I’m glad you do. Because I can tell that loving you wont be easy, but I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m only afraid I’ll do something I regret, and I’ll regret not loving you, Keith Kogane.”

 

Keith smiled ruefully, pitying the boy who had to love the monster, and for the second time that day, he had a realization.

 

He would do it for _him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pfft. Shut up, Pearl.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise the next chapter will be more Klance-centered. ;n;


End file.
